


Suffocating

by Dragon_Writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: I'm begging you I don't want to misinterpret someone's experience, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Issues, TELL ME IF SOMETHING I'VE WRITTEN IS INCORRECT PLEASE, but better safe than sorry, it's not long but if you know who Skip Westcott is then yeah, nothing is explicitely mentioned though, seriously be careful here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 19:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18947419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Writes/pseuds/Dragon_Writes
Summary: Peter was suffocating.*Read the tags!!!*





	Suffocating

**Author's Note:**

> READ. THE. TAGS. LOOK AFTER YOURSELF PLEASE, AND TELL ME IF I'VE SAID SOMETHING INCORRECT SO I CAN FIX IT  
> Okay now that that's been said, I'll let you read this now

Peter was suffocating.

That was the only explanation for it. His chest was tight, lungs not taking in enough air despite his desperate gasps, his throat burning as he tried to breathe through the apparent golf ball that had appeared just to make it more difficult.

He was definitely suffocating.

It was like he was under the building again, screaming out for help under tonnes of concrete, but no one was coming, no one would save him because who would save pathetic Peter Parker-

“Kid, kid, breathe with me, okay?”

There was a voice. It was familiar, but Peter couldn’t place who it was or where it was coming from, drowning under the noise of the collapsing pillars and his desperate gulps for air, his own heartbeat pounding all through his body.

“Hey, Parker, you with us?”

It was another voice, different but still familiar, so why couldn’t he remember? He couldn’t even form words to respond, his lungs still weren’t expanding enough and everything was fuzzy.

Then a hand touched his shoulder and suddenly nothing else could be felt other than overwhelming panic and the need to get away get away get away. He thought he could hear the voices, but he couldn’t tell over the sound of screaming echoing in his ears as he desperately scratched at his skin, trying to get rid of the feeling of being touched because he felt as helpless as he did back then, when he couldn’t even defend himself-

“Peter, hey, Pete, I want you to try breathing with me, okay?” The second voice said, tone softer than he thought he’d ever heard it. “Alright, in for four, and hold for seven… and out again, c’mon.”

He tried following along, clinging to the voice like a lifeline, the first voice joining after the first few breaths. It could have been hours or mere minutes, but eventually his chest loosened, he could breathe again as the golf ball in his throat faded and he could see past the blur of tears (when did he start crying?) to find Harley and Mr. Stark crouched in front of him, concern clear on their faces.

They said nothing, and no one moved except for Harley, who stood and returned with a roll of bandages. With a start Peter realised his arms were stinging, and looked down to find them red and raw, though the cuts had already begun to scab over. With a look of appreciation Peter took the bandages and wrapped his arms up, not missing how Harley and Mr. Stark’s looks of concern had gradually turned to relief.

Peter was no longer suffocating.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and again tell me if I've said something inaccurate. I haven't been through the Skip Westcott scenario myself, and I want to know if I've misinterpreted something so I can fix it and avoid doing so in the future. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated, and I hope you have a good day/night :)


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